


Something Old, Something New

by soda_coded



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, M/M, Navel-Gazing, Obsession, Social Commentary, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29927592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soda_coded/pseuds/soda_coded
Summary: He didn’t eat his slice, yet when he left only an empty plate remained.
Relationships: Elizabeth Midford/Ciel Phantomhive, Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Something Old, Something New

**Author's Note:**

> I am quite proud of this. I wish it had been finished but some things aren't meant to be. I couldn't quite bear to part with this Sebastian so I hope it is enjoyable even incomplete.

Sebastian’s smile was an unchanged fixture throughout the vows. As he waved them from the church, and into the carriage. As he raised his glass in toast at the reception from the servant’s table. Aunt Francis had planned the wedding, thoroughly dismissing his Master’s offers of assistance, aesthetic and financial. Sebastian had privately offered his help to the chef regardless, beating the eggs with a vigor not found in mortal man. And last night, he had startled the priest by turning into black mist, having been discovered while prowling the ceilings for errant dust. 

Humans hadn’t quite grasped allergies yet, but Ciel had them nonetheless.

Now there was nothing to do but watch his Master offer his soul into a new contract. For what he had gotten, Sebastian considered himself the thriftier deal.

Still, there was no denying that everything was perfect, exactly as Francis had demanded. No flower dared wilt, and every plate arrived steaming. The cups were topped off by silent hands as guests danced and laughed and celebrated. Sebastian missed the bonfires, from before. A little chaos to kick off nuptials was more honest. Most human bonds seemed little better than trial by fire.

Elizabeth was radiant, but the granting of one’s hopes and dreams would do that.

The virginal white suited her, brought roses to her pale cheeks, and the clean blue lines of Ciel’s suit made her eyes glow in the morning light, made him look like a figure from a fashion catalog, excepting the hair tied behind him. It had curled as it dried, big blue loops that matched Lady Phantomhive’s own ringlets. 

Maybe he should feel displaced in such a holy place. He was a dark stain in the corner of the room, even if no one else knew, a malevolent reminder of his Master’s violent past on the young couple’s most joyous day. The English had such a reverence for marriage.

Well. Not Henry.

Instead, Sebastian suppressed his boredom and lived in the small lines around Ciel’s mouth as he pursed his lips over inane chatter between Lady Phantomhive and her bridesmaids. Followed the way his eyes traced over the ceilings, wandering disinterestedly from his bride. Smiled at Bard’s ribald jokes about wedding nights, smiled at the silent hands topping up his cup, smiled at nothing in particular as he waited for the time to pass. 

His lord had never fancied the roses at the manor, even as perfect as they were. His tea yes, his chess and his books but the roses? They were decorative. 

They cut the first slice of cake with joined hands, before servants appeared to whisk away the dirtied knife and to begin distributing thin slices on cream porcelain, a swirl of dark chocolate as an accent. A plate was placed at his own elbow, which he should have expected, but amused him nonetheless. He was on the guest list officially after all, despite his demurring. Sebastian Michaelis, head butler to the Phantomhive Manor and loyal family friend.

He didn’t eat his slice, yet when he left only an empty plate remained.

  
  
  


He drove the happy couple to Brighton for their honeymoon, every step the horses taking ringing out with the bells Finnian and Meyrin had stitched to their bridles in big loose stitches, meant to be plucked apart when the afterglow wore away. It was a pleasant drive as Lady Phantomhive had wanted a spring wedding, and even at midday the air was cool, with a gentle breeze. Sebastian had preferred this area before the humans had begun to farm it, but from the front of the carriage, the view was still very agreeable.

There had been blood in the sheets he’d pulled from the bed that morning.

When they arrived, Ciel handed his wife from the carriage, his hands in hers while Sebastian held the reins and then the luggage. The house had been prepared days in advance, stocked and cleaned and aired. Sebastian had spent a few wasteful hours detailing the ceiling, banishing the spiders and their moths. If a Phantomhive butler couldn’t do that much-

“You can stable the horses, Sebastian.” Ciel said, and Sebastian bowed. “I’m taking Lizzy inside to show her the house.”

“Of course, master.” Sebastian said. He found himself thinking of the days Ciel wouldn’t let him leave his room at night, for fear of nightmares worse than a demon. The horses whuffed at him, uneasy.

Their honeymoon was a month, and the young couple spent much of it lost to distractions and pleasure. The beach, the theater, the shops, the clubs. Ciel seemed tired, but pleased. Sebastian could feel his whole form aching with impatience, his smile more of a floodgate than it had been even a year ago. He suddenly seemed to only note the signs of the same in his master… his gaze distant at breakfast, his rote answer to her happy chatter in the carriage. 

Still, he seemed unusually dedicated to his role as husband and head of household.

When the month had ended, Sebastian found himself curiously lighter for the prospect of returning to the mansion. Maybe, he thought, he had finally lived long enough to have become a creature of habit.

He missed cutlery he’d killed with, and the smell of english roses wet with dew. He missed the crest of the grounds and the simple solitude of his room. He missed his lovely strays. He had left them under Finnian’s care, with a hurting heart. For all his impulsive strength, he was an excellent caregiver… Maybe, Sebastian thought with no small amount of unease, he was growing sentimental.

Ciel also seemed happy to be home at least, yet they hadn’t been back for even a day before Sebastian was delivering more than sweets to his office. On a silver tray (he’d beheaded a man with it once, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from the shine) sat a letter bearing the royal crest. A dangerous distraction for a young boy, despite the official packaging.

Watched with unholy glee as his master's eyes lit up, the blue waking to sapphire.

“An assignment?” Ciel asked, and Sebastian was pleased to give his assent, although he hid behind the everyday china of his smile. Ciel’s hands were as eager for the letter as any other treat Sebastian had served him, the traditional gold band on his finger glowing in the candlelight. Sebastian rather liked the way so many pieces of finery looked decorating his master’s pale hands, as they unfolded the thick stationary, eyes scanning the words contained quickly.

Sebastian waited, his patience suddenly unfeigned, deadly tray held loosely at his side as he waited on his master. Midday light cut across his desk. By this time tomorrow, Sebastian won’t have slept, but his master will have. Begun the day anew.

A hundred years from now, Sebastian still won’t have slept. Like a mayfly, his life is one day, eternal, endless.

He finished and passed the paper to Sebastian without comment, but Sebastian had gathered all the information he needed from the deepening of Ciel’s lips at the corners. Too slight to be a smile, but still some satisfaction breaking through suddenly. It gives his face the same shine Sebastian strove for on their Wedgewood.

“We’ll leave tomorrow.” Ciel said and Sebastian nodded. 

We, as in master and servant, and neither of them were confused about it.

  
  
  


Lady Elizabeth felt differently. Had Sebastian been thinking, he might have predicted as much. As it was, he felt almost sure that Ciel was more prepared for this fight than he was. 

“You’re leaving?” She said when Ciel told her over breakfast. She was still in her nightgown, her hair swept into elegant, theatrical ringlets. Lovely and ornamental. Ciel on the other hand was fully dressed, his pants creased this morning, bending neatly at the knee accentuating the line of his leg. Sebastian had in fact, buttoned him into his jacket only moments before as they’d discussed what little they knew of the upcoming trip to- “For  _ Rome _ ?”

Sebastian would wonder why they hadn’t discussed this privately, but he knew why. Instead, he let his eyes rest on the back of his Master’s head. The slate hair combed and tied back with the new Jaquard blue ribbon. Nothing Ciel had chosen, but something he liked. All these years later, and still letting a servant choose his style. Shameful.

“Yes, at the Queen’s behest.” Ciel repeated, his voice indicating the matter quite decided. His back was as straight as that of his chair. “I don’t know how long this case will take to resolve-”

“But how will I know what to pack?” Elizabeth asked, and Ciel’s shoulders raised at her tone- or volume, disturbing the two fat curls he’d packaged in that blue ribbon earlier this morning. By the time they were preparing to leave port, the sea air would have loosened them considerably, unspooling blue grey silk across his shoulders, finer than raw silk, finer than treated silk, kitten soft and salty from the spray.... “Ciel?”

“No need to pack.” Ciel said gently. “I’ll be going alone.”

“Alone?” Elizabeth said, and if he was embarrassed at her immediate anger and impropriety it didn’t show.

“Yes. It’s a business trip, Lizzy, I won’t have time for-” He paused, clearly grasping for a pleasantry and as Sebastian observed him, the tips of his ears flushed a pale pink. “For a distraction.”

“I see.” Elizabeth said and when she looked up, her eyes looked past her husband, his master, and at him instead. Ah. This would be harder than he’d thought. “Sebastian, you may leave us for now.”

“Yes, my Lady.” Sebastian replied coolly, no evidence of his dark amusement in his voice. His master’s gold ring, his master’s white knuckles as they tightened on the shined silver of his fork, still wet with soft yolk.

(Sebastian had gouged eyes with that fork)

  
  
  


He kept his distance as long as he could, reasonably, but Ciel still scowled at him when he approached. That was fine. Sebastian’s smile was wide enough for both of them.

“The carriage is ready, milord.” Sebastian said, entirely proper, and Ciel clicked his tongue at him exasperatedly. “Are you…?”

“That’s enough.” Ciel said. “She’ll get used to it. She’ll have to, this is my duty.”

Sebastian didn’t think it was his duty to enjoy the case quite so much, but his master had said enough, so Sebastian held his tongue. Quickly, they had more to talk about than Lady Elizabeth. Despite Ciel’s crack shot with a pistol, he was still remarkably good at getting himself kidnapped. 

Sebastian told him as much, a dark whisper pressed to his tousled hair. It had come loose (velvet green ribbon, but he’d left it straight this time, like the potential of a lax whip) and lay across his shoulders and Sebastian’s chest where they were pressed into the natural alcove. When he opened his mouth to speak, he was surrounded by the scent of gunpowder and dried roses. Ciel’s retaliation was a swift foot to his shin. Sebastian was still grinning as they fled.

He had his master comfortable in under an hour, hair cleaned and brushed, tea in hand and white nightshirt unwrinkled, although surely soon to be stained with tea. He looked impossibly young like this, and it made Sebastian musingly nostalgic as he prepared a nightcap on a cart.

“We don’t know that the priests are the ones who even stole the bible, but it seems more than likely at this point. I just don’t understand why-”

“No need to understand the full complexity of the human soul before bedtime.” Sebastian said and Ciel tsked at him, as though the other man was spoiling his fun. More like endorsing it, Sebastian thought indulgently, handing him a warm cup and a clean saucer, taking his glass half empty from him. His next sip was followed by a hiss as the warm brandy in his milk tea slid down. “Or at all. Leave the cooking to the chefs.”   
  
Ciel looked at him, his gaze blue-grey, washed out in the soft lamp light, it’s flame steady. A measured stare, and when he raised his glass and drank again, a single drop of tea hit his chest, blooming like blood in water on his shirt. Half-empty or half-full, it would still be rude to laugh. Bad manners to speak ill of the dead and his young master was a dead man walking. All humans were, really.

Blinked, and handed Sebastian his cup dismissively. 

“I want you to make me chocolate ganache.” Ciel said. “Get it stuck in your teeth so you have to-” A yawn, splitting his impudent face. “-have to lick at it. Like a dog.”

“You shouldn’t feed dogs chocolate.” Sebastian said, but Ciel was already asleep.

  
  
  


On their last day in Rome Ciel made a tour of the shops, picking out this and that. Collecting numbers and shaking hands, always interested in new places for Funtom to spread. Buying a tidy pile of gifts, all in pastel and floral, all lovely and expensive just like his wife. They stopped for coffee at a shop Sebastian remembered from his last time in Rome. He said as much, and Ciel ordered a second cup immediately, bidding him to sit. His position less precarious, and so far from home the pageantry of the Phantomhive name weighed less. Sebastian sat, and sipped from a thin, scratched cup.    
  
“Does it taste the same?” Ciel asked him, and his eyes were polished clear from the thrill of solving the case and serving his little human Queen and Sebastian didn’t know how to tell him that from one second to the next nothing was ever, ever the same. His master knew that. It wasn’t even what he was asking.   
  
So instead he brought the cup to his nose, and inhaled, trying to think of when he was here before. This morning felt so long ago…. And a hundred thousand mornings felt like sweat already evaporated from your brow. He had drunk it fast then. Hadn’t been thinking of anything further than the pretence. His hunger had been for something sweeter…

“It does.” Sebastian said, and drained his cup. 

More shops afterward, and then Ciel wanted to visit the local Funtom shop. Only one location in Rome, but it had always sold well, and Ciel left pleased. His hair hung loose around his face, his ribbon curled in Sebastian’s pocket. The day was cool enough for it, and their boarding onto the ship went pleasantly as well.

When he watched his Master’s face as the manor came into view, Sebastian thought maybe he was not the only one who had caved to habit and comfort. 


End file.
